Yesterday was Tuesday, which like most of the Tuesdays since March meant that I would be biking to and from my volunteer shift at the SPCALA Spay/Neuter Clinic on Jefferson Boulevard.
So as usual I got myself onto 4th Street Bike Boulevard (even though specificaly calling it “Bike Boulevard” is now frowned upon by many in the urban cycling complex) and made my way west, where at about Rossmore I found myself riding with two other cyclists — just three two-wheeled commuters cranking it cross-town.
Nice. Right up until a few blocks along when one of us had to prove he was a jerk by pulling off the cliché selfish and endangering move that never fails to leave motorists and us responsible cohabitation-minded cyclists understandably stewing.
Crossing Hudson in a single file-ish line with me in the middle we approached June Street. As you’ll see in the photos sequenced below (captured on my ever-present handlebar cam; images enlarged if clicked), when the lead cyclist arrived at June, (1) she appropriately yielded to a southbound motorist who’d gotten to the intersection first. I followed suit and the motorist proceeded forward until he had to jerk to a stop because the jackass who’d been behind us (2)saw no reason to obey the law or concede the right of way that was not his and instead (3) just plunged across June without so much as a hesitation. Afterward, (4) the lead cyclist and I continued to yield and the driver (5) resumed his way across the intersection on his way, as did we.
My pointedly derogatory comment describing how I felt about such a blatant cheesebaggery was lost on its intended recipient because when I caught up to him waiting in the median gap to cross Highland I found out his audio inputs were fully blocked by earbuds. Of course they were.
So instead when he turned my way and found I’d negated any gain his sociopathically compulsive stop sign jump had made, he also found my my righteously disapproving glare back at him while shaking my head. His response was to turn on the afterburners once Highland cleared. But that impressive display of running away was for naught as well as I rolled up casually at the red light he got stuck waiting for at La Brea.